• Skye (she/her/hers)! Likes and follows from me will be seen by you as user “headoverorzabal”
•Mid 20s, irl musical theatre actress/classical & opera singer.
• When I’m not at rehearsals for my next gig, I’m here on all fours frothing at the mouth for Papa V Perpetua and Ghost. I’m re-kindling the love I used to have in highschool for writing fanfiction, and V seems to have found a place in my heart as my muse. note that i have never and will NEVER use ai, and if you do use it, you have no business being anywhere near my page ✨
If you have any questions for me personally, you’re always welcome to send me an ask or a message :)
Requests are open! Please feel free to send me smut/fluff/headcanons, any prompt you feel fit and I will try to make it happen.
I’m so happy to be here, and I really hope to make some connections with you guys ✨✨ find me on AO3
FIC LIST BELOW:
Perpetua:
Angel of Music (series masterlist here) (Explicit, Vamp!Perpetua x Fem!Reader) Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | AO3
As The World Falls Down (Mature, Vamp!Perpetua x Fem!Reader) | AO3
Sowing The Seeds of Love (Explicit, Perpetua x Fem! Reader) | AO3
Terzo:
Strangelove (Explicit, Terzo x Fem!Reader. CW for light Rough Stuff) AO3
Copia:
Head Over Heels (Fluff/SFW, Frater Imperator/Copia x GN!Reader).
Brisadeiro (Explicit, Copia x GN!Reader) AO3
Multi-Papa:
Love Is The Drug (Explicit, Copia x GN!Reader x Perpetua) AO3
(ya boy's in the trenches rn and needed to get a little self-indulgent with it)
cw: emetophobia (reader gets sick but the act is never described), gender dysphoria, angst
It was around the third arm jostle that Terzo's eyes peeled themselves open. Each blink felt labored, his top eyelids not cooperating in the slightest.
"Terzo?"
He could recognize that tone. Even through his waking-up haze he knew that you needed him. Immediately he's sitting up, palms coming up to rub the sleep out of his eyes once and for all.
"What is it, amore?" He's already reaching out for your form through the darkness. It couldn't have been past 3 A.M.
You're trembling, eyes puffy and tired from the nervous tears. A pair of strong hands move to pull you closer and you can't help but cling to his frame.
"Got my period."
A cramp churns inside your abdomen and before Terzo can even begin to respond, you let out a pained whimper. Then it washes over you. The anxiety almost brings you to tears again.
Already pulling away from him, you move for the ensuite bathroom.
"'M gonna be sick..."
Terzo's already getting out from under the covers, at your side in seconds. Shaky knees threaten to buckle beneath you as he wraps a protective arm around your waist.
He doesn't waste time to spring into action once you move to the floor. Gentle words of encouragement while he smooths your hair away from your face make you feel cared for. Doted on.
He's rubbing your back through it all, shushing your crying and kissing your shoulder while you ride it out. He never flinches, he never looks away. He is present with you in the moment, giving his full attention to helping you through the pain.
Once he senses that you've reached a lull, he's preparing a spare toothbrush with toothpaste for you. He knows it's what he would want, had the roles been reversed. You deserve everything he can give.
Hands that never ceased their shaking reach up for him and he's torn from his thoughts.
"Help... please." Your voice is hoarse and his heart breaks at the sound.
He's guiding you to your knees and helping you to your feet, each movement devoted to your comfort. Guilt washes over you, embarrassment over what just happened permeating every thought.
"I'm sorry, it just hurts so bad-"
"Shhh."
Gingerly, he presses the toothbrush and some pain meds into your palm. A kiss is pressed to your forehead in the dark.
"Brush, vita mia. Then come back to bed."
At this point, you're too exhausted to do anything other than what he tells you. So you do.
Terzo takes your heating pad off the shelf and leaves the bathroom, plugging it into the outlet closest to your side of the bed. He knows exactly what temperature level you prefer and sets it on the remote. At least, that's what you assume he's doing based on the sounds coming from the bedroom.
As you brush your teeth your mind wanders. And not in a good way. Every single period is a reminder of your biological sex, of what you'll never be able to truly escape. It felt like a monthly "fuck you" from the universe. Even though the major disconnect between body and mind was a constant, getting your period never fails to exacerbate the issue.
And Terzo knew this. All of the nights you've spent crying yourself to sleep in his arms will never truly leave him, he thinks. Seeing you struggle with something so all-consuming, bearing witness to your anguish... it's awful. He can't imagine how you must feel. The injustice of it all eats away at him.
He hears the toothbrush be thrown away and the bathroom faucet shut off, already peeling back the covers to invite you back inside. You emerge from the bathroom, looking like absolute hell. He swallows down the growing lump in his throat.
"Vieni qui, amore."
Crawling under the blankets and into his embrace puts more strain on your aching joints than anticipated, a distressed little groan escaping you.
"I know, I know..." he coos.
You become absolutely boneless as you lay on top of him, writhing with each cramp that twists through your gut. Getting comfortable seems impossible, even with the heating pad pressed to your pelvis. You huff through your nose in frustration.
Terzo gently massages your lower back with one hand, the other coming to gently rake his fingers through your hair, scratching and playing with the strands.
"Something on your mind?"
Tears sting at your eyes, a culmination of the exhaustion and pain you're experiencing, and your lower lip wobbles. But who are you to keep things like this from the one you treasure most?
"It just hurts so bad... I wish I didn't have to deal with this."
Your voice breaks at the end of the sentence.
"I wish I was born a boy."
The lump in his throat swells exponentially. He wishes he could find a way to put into words how much he adores you, how special you'll always be to him. How perfect you are. He makes a sympathetic sound, pulling you closer and kissing your temple.
"You're self-made instead. A lot more impressive and respectable, in my opinion."
Sobs shake your chest as you press your face into the blanket that's hiked up to your chin. His arms pull you impossibly closer.
"I love you."
Your voice is small, defeated. Done for the night. You don't even know how you have the energy left to keep crying. Terzo's heart breaks a little bit more with each heave of your shoulders.
"I love you too."
His hands are still soothing on your back and scalp as your sobs die down to sniffles. The heating pad is starting to do its job, too, offering just a sliver of relief from the onslaught. He can feel you start to relax with each steadying breath you take and your eyes are already shut when he speaks again.
"Go to sleep, bellissimo. You need it."
Even through your full-body exhaustion you still wrap your arms appreciatively around him, humming in agreement.
He always knows just how to take care of you. He'd give you everything he could twice-over just to see you content and comfortable.
Content: 363 words, V x gn!reader, mild NSFW, slight creature!V, consensual somnophilia & drug use, literally wrote this on a whim inspired by my sleep saviour melatonin🖤
Hypnopompia - the transitional state from wakefulness to sleep, also defined as the waning state of consciousness during the onset of sleep.
☽𖤐☾
In the early hours of the night, you know not why you wake when your head remains heavy, lead-laden limbs too warm to move. It takes a second, right before the panic sets in and wakes you fully, for the words to slip unhurried into your head and swirl around. It’s all part of your agreement.
Thunder rumbles softly overhead, the soft rainfall pattering against the windowpanes. In the moment of twilight transition, drifting between the waking world and that of dreams, you feel it. A cool breeze flutters through the curtains, then a cooler brush of knuckles tenderly against your cheek. You don’t startle, don’t even flinch. You can’t even open your eyes properly to see him, too deep in drowsy bliss. The dark doesn’t offer much but the faint outline of him, white eyes glowing soft as the pearly moon. You want him. So badly do you want him that your body aches.
The smell of him lulls you back into fluffed pillows and the plush mattress of his bed. You feel him over you, the weight suddenly bearing down. He smells of earth and the mildew of rain-kissed clothes; his touch is cold, and yet you remain warm. Desire thrums through you, your heartbeat strong yet slow in your chest.
His lips are chilled when his mouth barely meets yours, but the breath behind it is as warm as a hearth. Those icy fingers cup your cheek and slide down to your collarbone, gliding beneath the covers. You hear yourself moan so far off you might’ve imagined it.
His kisses slide down, following the path until he nips at your ear. Arousal seeps through your veins, hot and infectious, and you can already feel that heat pooling between your thighs when his cold fingers spread on your belly. Goosebumps rise on your skin, and yet you remain still and ready, wanting, burning for him.
Perpetua clicks in his throat, pressing another kiss this time to the side of your throat.
“Be still, angel,” his voice is so low you think he’s speaking into your mind. You feel his mouth move over your flesh. “Let Papa take care of you, him?”
Mary Goore x f!reader. who knew he was capable of being such a gentleman? title from "too drunk to fuck" by dead kennedys
Fan i helvete, whoever the fuck is banging on my door better not miss their fucking teeth. Rubbing at his eyes, Mary pulled the covers over his head, cursing whatever unrelenting pest decided to torment him at two in the morning.
Despite his best efforts to conjure a swift death to the gremlin at his door, he let out a groan and flung the sheets away.
“C'mon, I know you're in there ‘cos th’bars are all closed,” a slurring voice called from behind the door. I should know since I cloooosed ‘em!”
Mary’s eyes shot open, his brows knit together in equal parts confusion and recognition. As he stood, he took a brief glimpse around his studio apartment, suddenly aware of the pile of dirty clothes on the floor, the dishes in the sink, the general mess of-
“MAAAAAAAARY MARY QUITE CONTRAAAARY!”
Sweating loudly, he sprinted to the door, leaping over an open guitar case and hoping the neighbors hadn't already called the cops on the banshee in the hallway.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Mary hissed, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you inside. “Y’know what time it is?”
Letting out a giggle, you bit your lip as you leaned against the door. While he’d seen you bouncing around the pit a time or two, you’d still seemed relatively put together compared to the rest of the crowd, you were an absolute mess as you stood before him now.
“I dunno, what do y’think I'm doing, idiot?”
Yanking him forward, you roughly pulled him into an awkwardly forceful kiss, grinding your hips against his. For a moment, he was so swept up in still being half asleep and with the realization that you were finally in his apartment, he leaned into the kiss but when your hand gripped his cock through his boxers, he jumped backward with a muffled grunt.
“Woah there, älskling. Think ya may have overdone it a bit?” He tried to play it off with a chuckle, taking your hands in his but also trying to ignore the quickly stiffening bulge between his legs. To be honest, there was a lingering worry that concerned him. You hadn’t driven here, had you?
“I had a few,” you admitted, shaking your head while Mary had to hold out a hand to steady you as you almost tipped over. “So what? But I’m not toooo drunk to fuck. Fuckin’ looove that song.”
Wriggling your hands from his grasp, you grabbed the collar of his shirt to pull him into another kiss, but he dodged your mouth, instead brushing your hair away from your facing and offering a sympathetic smile.
“I think you’re too drunk to do a lot of things, fucking included, älskling.”
Admittedly it was flattering. You’d been flirting for weeks and sure, he would have gladly fucked the life out of you by now but the stars had yet to align in that regard and he’d convinced himself you just weren’t interested in anything physical. Yet now here you are, offering yourself to him on a silver platter in all your drunken glory. Okay, “drunken” was putting it delicately. You were absolutely wasted.
“Mary, come on. Don’t get all chi- fuck, chiv-”
“Chivalrous?” Mary chuckled, pulling you close but only to stop you from accidentally collapsing. However, the well-intentioned gesture was clearly misinterpreted as you grabbed his hand again, this time guiding it past the waistband of your jeans. Immediately your arousal coated his fingers and Mary let out a groan, his eyes fluttering closed as he pressed his forehead to yours. With a moan, you pushed his hand further down, enough for him to sink into your warmth, effortlessly sliding through your wetness.
“See how fuckin’ wet you make me? Need you s’fuckin’ bad it hurts.”
C’mon, Mare. You already know you’re a piece of shit. What’s one more drunken fuck to add to your long list of sins? She won’t even remember if it's not your best performance, not while literally begging you to fuck her.
Only it wouldn’t be just a drunken fuck because he was stone-cold fucking sober. What a time to suddenly have a conscience.
Fuck.
With a sad chuckle, he slid his hand out from your underwear, smoothing down your blouse as you let out a pathetic whine.
“You have no idea how bad I want to take you up on that, uh, generous offer. Seriously, älskling.”
This was the honest truth; his cock was straining so hard against his boxers he could probably pierce a watermelon with it. But when he forced himself to look into your unfocused eyes, he knew he was making the right choice.
“Then why don't you?” you pressed, pouting slightly.
“Because you probably got enough alcohol in your bloodstream to choke a horse?”
“Oh fuck you, Mare. Seen you drink way more than that and still take girls home. Why don't you wanna do that with me? Am I really s’fucking bad?”
Fuck. Now you seemed to be taking his rejection of your advances personally and for a moment, he really did feel like an asshole. That is, until you tried to take a step forward but ended up crashing into him at full-force.
“Alright, hellcat. C’mere.”
Slipping his arm around your shoulders, you slumped against him, stumbling as he led you towards the bed. Even though he tried to set you down gently, you plopped down hard on the mattress, which was obviously on the floor without a bed frame or even box spring, but at least it was a soft landing. By now you could barely keep your eyes open and you flopped back onto the mattress, muttering to yourself with a colorful mixture of name-calling Mary and berating yourself about jello shots. Mary dropped to his knees in front of you, sliding your shoes off and setting them aside while glancing up at you with a weary look. Deep breaths, Mare. Don’t be the fucking asshole you think you are.
With shaking fingers, he unbuttoned your jeans, tugging them down as you wiggled your hips, barely conscious but letting out quiet mewling moans.
“Knew you just couldn’t say no, tryin’ to be so fuckin’ honorable,” you slurred, eyes closed and arms outstretched above your head as he peeled your pants over your feet.
“Nice try,” Mary smirked, tossing the jeans by your shoes. “Up.”
Willingly, you sat back up, smirking as you watched him begin to unbutton your shirt, biting your lip with an expectant look. Mary let out a pained groan as he slipped the blouse away from shoulders, revealing your bare chest. Of fucking course this is when you chose not to wear a bra. He grabbed a shirt from the pile of laundry, slipping it over your head and covering your fucking perfect tits with one of his threadbare band tees as quickly and as blindly as he could. Like putting a fucking gas station bumper sticker on a Ferrari.
“This s’what turns you on? Me wearing your shitty clothes?” you teased, leaning back onto your palms, pressing your foot against his thigh, toeing at his now throbbing cock.
“So when you puke, you’re not ruinin’ your pretty little wardrobe.”
He eased your foot away from his crotch, which you'd somehow managed to accurately prod, pressing his thumb against your arch to gently massage the skin, unable to stop a stupid fucking smile at the sight of you in one of his beloved shirts. Had you been sober, this is when he’d happily use his tongue to spell the name of every town in Sweden against your clit, hell maybe go through all the state capitals too.
“Didn't know you were such a gentleman,” you murmured, your head lulling to the side to rest on your shoulder.
“That makes two of us.”
Saying it out loud was admittedly a relief. In fact, he didn't know he was capable of turning down such a tempting proposition and perhaps it was just an off night, but regardless you were clearly in no position to be at just anyone's mercy. So here he was, protecting your dignity as well as he could while also hoping you wouldn't hate him in the morning.
Mary guided you back down onto the mattress, pulling the sheets over your shoulders as your head settled onto his pillow. He'd thought of the way you'd look in his bed, all tousled and undone after he'd wrecked you as much as you'd allow him to, but somehow, even after you'd evidently drank half a bar on your own, seeing this side of you tugged at his insides more than he expected. Who'd have guessed; Mary Goore does in fact have a heart. A black, twisted little heart.
“You gonna join me?”
Fuck.
He didn't even try to hide his torment, dropping his head to the mattress with a grumble. Even if he slept above the covers beside you, he'd likely end up in the hospital with the worst case of blue balls known to man.
“Seeing as you're such a gentleman. There's room," you cooed, reaching out to drag your nails across his scalp. It was almost enough to make him start purring.
“You are an absolute menace, y'know that, älskling?”
Sleepily, you giggled again, letting your hand cradle the side of his face, gently scratching along his jaw. Mary tipped his head into your touch, taking a moment to simply savor the feeling of your warmth against his skin. Slowly, he felt your hand go limp against his face and he lifted his head, resting his chin on the edge of the bed. It appeared you'd finally succumbed to your inebriated stupor and had fallen asleep, your lips parted as soft snores escaped your mouth. Tucking your hand under the covers, Mary leaned over you, plucking the unoccupied pillow from the spare side of the bed. You were gonna feel like shit tomorrow but at least you wouldn’t have to make an emergency stop at a clinic on your walk of shame back home. A thought crossed his mind that made a wave of nausea wash over him. What if he hadn’t been home? Would she have wound up at another guy’s place? One that didn’t have his sudden sense of honor?
Against his better judgement, he quickly dipped in to press a chaste kiss against the corner of your mouth before laying down on the floor beside the bed, placing the pillow under his head with another frustrated grunt. Sure he could have slept on the couch that was literally five feet away but fuck it. He wanted to be close to you. Close enough so if you needed him, he was right there.
But she did need you. She needed you so bad it hurt, remember? You fucking loser.
Pressing his palms against his eyes, Mary clenched his jaw and cursed under his breath in every language he knew. Dragging his hands over his face, he stopped as his fingers reached the valley between his nose and lips. How quickly he’d forgotten you had pushed his fingers into your arousal soaked cunt, drenching him in your desire. The scent of you flooded his senses and his cock twitched as if it was already a pavlovian response. You depraved fucking pervert.
Eyes closed, inhaling deeply, Mary couldn't help but palm his cock as he conjured a vision of you begging him to take you, your desperation flooding between your thighs. This version of you, not even able to contain your fevered lust before he bent you over the side of the couch, burying himself in your depths until your ragged cries echoed so loudly throughout the apartment it was almost deafening.
No longer able to help himself, Mary snaked his hand into his boxers, grasping his weeping cock in his fist, fucking against his fingers at the thought of how wet you were before he'd even touched you. How wet could he make you if he really tried? Could he make you cum from foreplay alone? Would you moan his name?
His fingers trailed to his lips, finally dipping into his mouth, moaning against the taste of you, wondering how long before it faded. Fucking his fist, he tried to keep quiet, knowing you were right there, knowing you wanted him so badly but he couldn't have you, not like this. Not like the pathetic little creep sucking the heat of your cunt from his fingers like a starving man, not like his body wanted nothing more than to sink into you, feeling the heat of your walls sheathing him so tightly as he made you cum, nails digging into his back as he fucked you into oblivion.
Finally, his orgasm crashing into him, his hips bucking violently at nothing, his cum soaking the fabric of his underwear as he bit down hard on fist to stop from crying your name as his pleasure ripped through him. As the shockwaves subsided, he was left sweating and gasping for air, his palm covering his eyes as if that would shield him from the possibility of you looking over and seeing him in such a shameful state.
You came here, well, probably for an easy fuck truth be told but definitely not because you wanted to pass out in front of a creep who jacked off next to where you laid passed out next to him. You knew you were a piece of shit, Mare. All you did was prove yourself right.
A gentle exhale, the rustle of blankets as you shifted in your sleep, blissfully unaware of the depravity that played out beside you. Again, the dumb fucking grin spread across his lips, the thought of just how comfortably you'd slid into his bed, like you'd be there a hundred times. As fucked up as you were, part of you had to know that even in your drunken, horny state, that you were safe with him. At least, he desperately hoped you knew that.
Slowly, he relinquished his grip on his softening cock, wiping his hand across his shirt and making a mental note to buy a box of Kleenex the next time he went to the shops. It wasn't long before all he could focus on was the steady rhythmic sounds of your breathing, lulling him into a gentle sleep.
A sudden cacophony startled him awake and Mary sat up, blinking away his sleep-induced daze as he tried to make sense of what he'd awoken to. Behind the closed bathroom door was the unquestionable sound of a rough morning after a good night; someone violently retching into the toilet. Mary winced, knowing that not only did you definitely feel like death warmed up, but you were likely completely unaware of what did, or didn't, happen last night.
“Hey, uh, you good in there, älskling?” Mary called through the door, trying to keep his voice down.
“Fucking great,” your voice answered, followed by audible gagging.
“Look, I'm coming in alright?”
“Don't you fucking-”
The moment Mary stepped in, his sympathy only strengthened. Sure enough, you were hugging the toilet, your forehead propped up in your hand as you struggled to take deep, calming breaths. Mascara smeared across your eyes and limp strands of hair hung in front of your face. The dark red lace of your underwear poked out from under the hem of his shirt and would have otherwise made for quite the intriguing site if it weren't for the -
You lurched forward, coughing into the bowl as you let out a pitiful whimper. Mary stepped forward, gathering your hair and pulling it away from the crime scene that was the contents of the toilet.
“You’re alright, rockstar,” he said in as soothing a voice as he could muster. Truthfully he wanted to laugh. Despite the absolutely wrecked nature of your person at the moment, you were also undeniably sharing an intimacy he had a feeling you hadn't let many, if any, people see.
After a few moments, when everything seemed to have success evacuated your system, you leaned against the wall behind you, covering your face with your hands.
“Oh my god, fucking kill me.”
“Believe it or not, that thing's seen worse,” Mary chided, reaching over to flush the evidence.
“I swear I never drink like that,” you admitted, sounding like you were fighting back tears.
“Good news for your liver,” he teased, elbowing you in the ribs gently.
“I'm so fucking embarrassed, Mare. You have no idea.”
With a chuckle, Mary shifted so he was seated beside you, pulling a towel from the rack above you and dabbing the sweat from your forehead. As much as he wanted to dissuade the embarrassment, he knew you were probably mortified. But that still couldn't stop him from laying on his usual charms.
“You mean you don't make a habit of booty calling a guy at 2am on a Thursday night? I'm crushed.”
You let out a prolonged groan as Mary laughed, coaxing your hands from your face to wipe away the remainders of your makeup.
“Don't be embarrassed. Nothing happened you'd be ashamed about, you little horndog. I didn't make a pass at ya or anything, if you're worried about that.”
You pulled the towel down, looking at him directly for the first time since last night.
“I- I, um, I'm so sorry, Mare. Seriously. That wasn't cool of me, like, at all. I've never done anything like that in my life. I swear.” Your eyes welled with tears and it took everything in his power not to pull you into his arms, but he doubted that's what you wanted right now.
“Honestly, it wasn't anything to be ashamed about, älskling. You had a good time. Don't worry about it, really.”
“Still, I just- fuck, your shirt.”
You held out the front of the tee, grimacing at the mess splattered across the print. Mary couldn't help but notice the sickly green hue your face immediately turned and was quick to hoist you to your feet. As he pulled the shirt over your head, taking care not to make direct contact with your hair, you tried to protest but wobbled so badly you had to grip onto his waist not to fall over.
“What're you-”
Once again, Mary tried to act as blindly as possible as he pulled down your underwear, trying to minimize the amount of times his fingers grazed your skin, well aware of how it looked. You now stood naked and trembling in front of him and when he locked eyes with yours, he saw how vulnerable you looked and maybe even a bit scared. The latter was enough to break his heart. Proof again that you have one.
“Can you stand okay?”
“Got the spins,” you responded quietly, crossing your arms to cover your chest, shufflingly your feet awkwardly.
“Hold onto me.”
Mary held out a hand which you tentatively took while giving him a questioning glance. With his spare hand he reached into the shower to turn it on and stepped in, pulling you in after him.
“Mary, you’re still in your clothes, you moron!”
“S’fine, älskling. Don’t worry about me. We’re gonna make you feel like a human again.”
As the water cascaded over you both, you let out a contented groan, closing your eyes while the stream soaked your hair. Mary squeezed a dollop of shampoo into his palm, gently massaging it into your scalp and half expecting you to protest again, but you let out another pleased sigh at the contact. His clothes were completely drenched, his black hair dripping into his face, but he didn’t care, his thoughts were only on you.
So it wasn’t enough to have her sleep in your bed, now you just had to get her naked too?
“Why are you doing this?”
Your voice silenced the asshole voice in his head, something he needed to thank you for later.
“Doin’ what?”
Slumping your head against his chest, you mumbled something he couldn’t quite make out but somehow he got the gist.
“Maybe I’ve had one or two of these nights myself and let’s just say I didn’t have someone taking care of me through it. Look, it’s fine. Really. I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”
When you looked up, Mary had to gulp down an anxious lump in his throat at the piercing nature of your stare.
“Is this some weird nice guy thing? You didn’t fuck me when I was drunk but now when I’m hungover and pathetic-”
“Hey, that was my favorite Pig Destroyer shirt you puked on, that’s not exactly a one-way ticket to my pants.”
Letting out an irritated grunt, you once again flopped your head against his chest and he couldn’t help but wrap his arms around your shoulders.
“It’d be easier if you were just an asshole,” you said quietly, your voice muffled by the dripping tresses hanging around your face.
Don’t I fucking know it.
When he'd stepped out of the shower, giving you some privacy after you'd assured him you were able to stand on your own two feet without toppling over, Mary pulled out a pair of sweats and a clean shirt from his closet and set them on the bathroom counter for you. Now he stared into his cup of black coffee, rubbing his eyes and trying not to focus on how your naked body felt pressed against him just moments ago. His own wet clothes lay in a sad, crumpled pile beside the bed and the pants he'd pulled on definitely had a sizable rip in the back pocket but with the state he was in, he just couldn't be bothered. While this wasn't the wildest night he'd spent with a girl, it was certainly one of the most confusing.
As he heard the faucet squeak to turn off the shower, Mary reached for the bottle of painkillers he kept stashed for just these occasions. A few moments later, you stepped out of the bathroom with a rather sheepish look on your face, once again adorned in his clothes. He tried desperately to ignore the, yes, pavlovian response his body had to seeing you walking around his place like that.
“Feel better?”
“Back in the land of the living,” you grumbled as you sat down at the counter beside him. Mary slid the mug of coffee and bottle of pills towards you.
“Look, I'm really, really sorry, Mare.”
“You can stop apologizing, y’know. You're more annoying when you're sober,” he teased, offering a lopsided smirk. “Listen, you, uh, you didn't drive here last night, did ya?”
“Fuck no, I may be an idiot but I'm not stupid. I took the world's sketchiest cab to the apartment building you pointed out and took a wild guess that the door with ‘fuck you’ written in sharpie was yours. And…that's about the last thing I remember,” you admitted, hiding your face behind the coffee mug. “How…how bad was it?”
Mary couldn't help but chuckle as the memories of the previous night flooded his brain.
“Pretty impressive. I know a few metalheads who you could easily out-drink.”
“You know what I mean, Mare. C'mon, just tell me. I can take it.”
Letting out a heavy sigh, Mary shifted in his seat but nodded.
“Let's just say I haven't had someone come on to me that aggressively since I accidentally walked into a nursing home and had a bunch of old ladies mobbin’ me. So thanks for the ego boost.” He added a wink with hopefully a healthy dose of levity.
“Oh my goddd,” you groaned, dropping your head roughly to the table with a loud thunk.
“Honestly, I gotta say I'm a bit surprised. Little miss touch-me-not over here turns into a raging sex pest when she's had a bit too much to drink? It's always the quiet ones.”
“I'm never drinking again.”
“Hey, if that's what it takes to get you to shove my hand in your-”
“Oh my GOD, I fucking what?!”
Mary winced. Too much, dude. Way fucking too much.
For a few moments, he simply watched you as you agonized while lost in thought, staring over your shoulder towards Mary's bed. The pillow was still on the ground as well as the hoodie he'd used as a makeshift blanket.
“You slept on the floor?”
“Well yeah, you think I was safe sleepin’ next to a nympho like you? I'd end up on an IV from getting all dehydrated.” Casually leaving out the part where you jacked yourself off like a fucking degenerate?
“Jesus, you should've just sent me home. I can take care of myself.”
“And then what? You drunk call some douchebag in your phone who isn't like-”
“Like what, Mare? Like you? You think you're my fucking white knight because you didn't fuck me when you could have?”
“Woah woah woah, calm your tits, älskling.” Your gorgeous perfect fucking tits. “I'm just saying I'm glad it was my door you were bangin’ on, alright? Not everyone would give a shit about your safety when you clearly didn't.”
“So now you're lecturing me, Goore? Really? Fuck you.”
“Fuck you.”
Angry silence seeped in between you and while, yeah sure, you weren't wrong, neither was he. He wanted to stay angry but all that immediately melted away when he heard a quiet sniffle. Fuck. Now on top of everything, you were crying. Properly crying.
Mary pulled you into a hug, resting his chin on your forehead. He tried shushing you, running his fingers through your damp hair, but he knew all too well that when the booze blues hit, they hit hard. Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his boney waist, sniveling pathetic little sobs.
“I know how fucking stupid I was, okay? I woke up and I was scared and weirded out and I know this could have been really fucking bad.”
“Yeah, but it wasn't. It coulda been, sure, but you just so happened to knock on the door of a Viking willing to sweep you off your feet. The rest is history, älskling.”
The fact he was able to make you laugh felt like the conquest of the century.
“You keep calling me that,” you sniffed, wiping your eyes. “What does that mean?”
“Oh, uh,” Mary gulped again, feeling his ears growing hot. “It's nothing, just something we call people.”
“Is it a good thing?”
“Yeah,” he smirked, pressing his lips to your temple. “It's a good thing.”
